


Unfinished Business

by vanderlindeandco



Category: Gears of War - Fandom
Genre: But a lovable dick, F/M, Gears of War, baird is a dick, baird x sam, damon baird - Freeform, lol gotta be honest, overused tropes, sam byrne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 18:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanderlindeandco/pseuds/vanderlindeandco
Summary: When Baird and Sam get trapped due to an ice storm, they're forced to find a way to get along or face freezing to death.





	Unfinished Business

“Baird, Sam, flank right. We’ll go left.” Marcus’s order was simple, the operation was standard, and the enemies were just grubs.

So how the hell had it all gone so wrong?

Well, it could have been the snipers. They weren’t expecting that. And the torque bows didn’t make things easier, granted. The three Boomers were the clincher, and Baird found himself doing one of the things he hated the most- retreating. 

He dodged into the open door of a building, Sam just behind him, the footsteps and monstrous roars of one of the Boomers not far away. 

“You know it’s funny,” Sam said as they ran up a dilapidated set of stairs. “I seem to recall you saying you ate Boomers for breakfast.”

“And I seem to recall you saying you’d never go anywhere with me again,” Baird said, “So I guess today’s a special day.”

“Not like I had a choice,” Sam said. “You wouldn’t make it five minutes out here alone.”

“Oh, you’re worried about me? That’s cute.”

“No, I just haven’t had the time to plan your funeral after-party yet. It’s going to be a once-in-a-lifetime banger.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Baird pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and stepped through, holding it open for Sam.

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead,” she quipped, taking a step through the door.

Baird’s fingers slipped off the handle and the metal door clanged against her boot. “Oops. I guess it is.”

“Dick,” she forcefully pushed open the door and stepped through.

“Baird.” The mechanic’s radio crackled to life with Marcus’s familiar gravel.

“What is it?”

“Ice storm coming in.” The connection faded for a moment. “Get to your vehicles. Meet you at base.”

“Roger that.” Baird looked out one of the broken windows and sure enough, a dark storm hovered on the horizon. The formerly swarming streets below had already cleared of grubs.

“Back downstairs then,” Sam said with a sigh.

“Oh, you tired? Need me to carry you?” Baird teased.

“Funny, I was going to offer that to _you_,” Sam replied. “I heard your knees crackling all the way up, sounding like some damn Rice Krispies.”

“You can talk to my dad about that,” Baird said. “He’s the one who gave ‘em to me.”

By the time they got outside, the front edge of the storm front was starting to hit, an occasional lighting bolt flashing among the clouds. It had taken longer than they had thought to get back down, and it was ten blocks to their vehicle. “Let’s wait this one out,” Sam said. “The town hall looks pretty solid.”

“Good call.”

Baird let Sam take the lead. He couldn’t deny he enjoyed the view- she might be as abrasive as sand under his armor, but he appreciated a nice ass as much as the next man and he couldn’t deny she had one- round and tight under her fatigue pants. 

She looked over her shoulder as they reached the steps and his eyes snapped to her face. “Need a hankie?” she asked.

“Why?” he revved up his lancer, chopping through the lock that held the doors shut.

“Oh, for all that drooling you’re doing.”

“You wish.” The comeback was lame and he knew it, but they both knew he’d been caught. He exchanged the rifle for his gnasher, prepared for a fight, but except for a few wretches, the building was quiet. 

The storm was really beginning to hit now, wind howling around the building as rubble and dirt began to fly through the broken windows. “Let’s get downstairs,” Baird said. They explored as the storm intensified, eventually finding a staircase that went down. Sam went first into the dark, and rounded a corner before Baird. She flailed suddenly with an undignified squeak, her arms wheeling and Baird saw not quite in time the missing steps and the bottom floor filled with water, Sam teetering on the edge of the unexpected precipice- and then she went in, tumbling into the water with a curse and a splash.

“Hang on, I’ll get you out.” Sam was some seven feet down - too far for Baird to reach- but he detached a piece of hefty cable from his belt and affixed it to a strong support at the center of the stairs. Sam was treading water with a sour expression on her face when Baird lowered the line to her. “Attach this to your belt. Is it all flooded down there?”

“It looks like it.” Sam fumbled for a few moments and then gave Baird the okay and he began to haul her up. 

“What the hell have you been eating?” he asked. “You weigh a ton.”

“Armor, remember?” Sam’s fingers finally reached the last step and she pulled herself over the edge, collapsing on the metal. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.”

Baird had noticed it too- even in long sleeves and full armor he was growing cold due to the chill setting in with the storm. “We might be here awhile,” he said. “Let’s find somewhere safe.”

All the way up the stairs, Sam was already shivering, though she was too proud to complain. Neither had brought real jackets- the ice storm was unexpected in what was otherwise a fairly hospitable climate- and Baird realized now they would have to find a way to get Sam warm or else there could be serious consequences, although Baird would like to pretend he didn’t give a shit. 

They reached the main floor again, a gust of icy wind hitting them the second the door opened. Baird spotted a door they hadn’t opened on the other side of the room and made a break for it, Sam close behind him. Snow was already building up fast, and a wind-driven drift had accumulated at the base of the door. Baird pulled with all his might and the door slid open. He let Sam in first and then stepped inside, letting the door slam itself shut. The room was still at least- no windows- but it was freezing cold already even for Baird, and he couldn’t imagine how Sam must be feeling. “Fuck me with a hammerburst,” he muttered. “It’s fucking cold.”

“Try it soaked,” Sam shot back. She sat down against the wall and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Aww look at that- it’s a wet little bundle of spite and hatred,” Baird said. The fact that Sam didn’t bother to answer gave him a much better idea of the state she was currently in and he turned on his radio. “Come in, Marcus.” Static. “Marcus.”

“We won’t be able to get ahold of him until the storm’s over,” Sam said, voice quivering from her shivers. “And the storm looked like a big one.”

“Yeah. Just thought I’d try.” He opened one of his pockets and pulled out a small shrink-wrapped packet, tossing it to Sam. “Emergency blanket. Use it.”

“That’s uncharacteristically kind of you,” Sam said, and bit through the plastic with chattering teeth before unfolding the Mylar blanket inside.

“Yeah well, if everyone knows I’ve been looking for a chance to off you and you die under mysterious circumstances, I might get demoted,” Baird said.

“Again,” Sam added, wrapping the blanket around herself.

“You’re awfully snarky for someone in your position.”

“Oh right,” Sam said. “Thank you, my dear friend. I know how difficult it is for you to do the minimum. How will I ever repay you?”

Baird ignored the comment. “I’m gonna look for something to start a fire.” The room was in poor shape, and it didn’t take long to put together the beginnings of a fire from the old furniture and the planks emerging from the damaged walls. Baird crouched over the pile, fingers clumsy with cold as he worked with his flint and steel to light the wood. At last, one of the sparks caught and Sam moved closer, holding out her hands to the nascent fire. “You’re welcome,” Baird said pointedly as he gently set another small piece of wood on the fire. He glanced at Sam, and noticing her lips were turning blue, didn’t push for more of a reaction.

The cold had thoroughly gripped the ruined city and the chill was setting into Baird’s bones. He couldn’t control his shivering and he sat down as close to the fire as he could without sitting _in _it. “You know,” he said, “You’re not going to get very warm with those wet clothes on.”

“You want me to take them off?” she asked, an eyebrow cocked.

“For your own good,” Baird said.

“Really?” Sam asked skeptically. “I think I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” Baird said. “You’ll make it maybe a few hours before you’re a fucking Bomb Pop.”

“Better that than listen to you talk,” Sam said.

Baird shrugged and set another piece of wood on the fire as the flames began to eat up the kindling. The room was drafty though, cold leaching in through the vents and the cracks under the doors, and they were losing heat just as quickly as the fire provided it. The sound of Sam’s shuddering breaths were the only noise apart from the fire. Baird felt his toes going numb inside his boots, his clammy socks doing nothing to keep in his body heat.

“You could wear my shirt,” Baird said finally into the quiet.

“You’d do that for me?” Sam asked, clearly surprised.

“I _do _have a heart, despite popular opinion,” Baird said. “Besides, I got a better chance of getting out of here alive if I’m not alone, even if you did manage to lose your lancer.”

Sam held out a hand.

He looked at it incredulously. “What, you want me to hold it?”

“No, genius. Give me your shirt,” she said.

“You’re not even going to say please?” he asked, but the positively murderous look in her eyes stopped him. “Fine.” He stood, unstrapping his body armor, and set it on the floor. The armor had kept in at least a little heat and he felt the loss instantly as it slipped away. He pulled his thermal shirt over his head and tossed it to Sam, but not before he caught her eyes drift decidedly farther south than his face. 

“Stop it; I’m feeling objectified by your female gaze,” Baird protested and Sam rolled her eyes.

“You’re not that big compared to Marcus and Cole,” she said bluntly.

“Maybe, but I’m twice as smart. Anyone can go to the gym and get jacked. But it takes a very special person to have a mind as sharp as mine. It’s like a bear trap - nothing gets away.”

“Well, one thing did,” she said. 

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Your humility,” she said, taking the shirt as he handed it to her.

“Yeah, maybe.” He picked up his armor, considering putting it back on before he realized it was freezing cold to the touch and that the metal wouldn’t do him much good anyway.

“Are you going to turn around?” Sam asked as he settled down on the floor again.

“Oh it’s fine, I don’t really see you as a woman,” Baird said. 

Her eyes grazed his posture; he was sitting cross-legged - lap open. “Fine.” She stood, letting the blanket slip down. Her gaze remained fixed on Baird as she unstrapped her armor and let it fall to the floor. It was only when her hands grasped the bottom of her shirt and began to pull it up, revealing a slender but toned stomach and a little bit of something black above it that Baird looked away and drew up his legs, a sensation he most certainly did not want to experience then, let alone associate with Sam, filling the pit of his stomach. He didn’t have to look at her face to imagine the smirk that was on it. _Damn you, Damon Junior_.

He waited until in his peripheral vision he saw her settle back down to look up again, his cheeks flushed. She didn’t say anything, but her expression was just as he’d imagined. She had won that time and he knew it but when he looked straight at her the thought suddenly left his mind. There she sat, reaching for the blanket again, but for now with long, strong legs revealed, his shirt adorably oversized on her (_adorably_ \- how the hell had his mind chosen that word to describe Sam Byrne?!), he glanced at her chest and the dark cloth hid nothing - he looked away again, fixing his gaze on the fire. This was not the time or place. It was just that he’d been single for a long time- it _had_ to be that… Sure, there were girl Gears, but he spent most of his time in his workshop or with Delta. It wasn’t his fault Sam wasn’t bad to look at.

He dedicated himself to adjusting the fire, and when he looked back at Sam, he found to his relief as a soldier that needed to survive (but not as a man in a compromising situation with a woman) that she was soundly tucked under the blanket again.

They sat in silence for over half an hour, according to Baird’s watch, and some color began to return to Sam’s cheeks. But as she grew warmer, Baird grew colder, his whole bare torso exposed to the cold, and the fire not helping much but his extremities. It was the opposite of what he needed, but he didn’t know how to fix it, and he’d be damned if he asked Sam to share the blanket.

Thankfully, by the time Baird could no longer feel his hands or feet and unpleasant stabbing sensations were penetrating his arms and legs, Sam said. “We need to do something about this.”

Baird nodded stiffly. “If you get in front of me, we can get the blanket around both of us.”

“Yeah.” She crawled toward Baird, setting another piece of wood on the fire before she settled between his opened legs, her back to his torso. Even through the shirt he could feel her warmth, hot as fire against his icy skin. The heat hurt as much as it soothed, but he knew he needed it. He began to wrap the blanket in front of him and over her but she shook her head. “Get it behind you. You need it most.” 

He didn’t argue, and he didn’t even have the energy to needle her for looking out for him. With fingers that couldn’t even feel the blanket, he picked it up and draped it around his shoulders before wrapping his arms around Sam, and tucking her tight against his body - this just as much to leach her body heat as it was to keep her warm. “I didn’t take you for the clingy type,” she teased, and then when he didn’t answer, his teeth chattering against her shoulder, she said, “It’ll be better soon. Give me your hands.” 

Baird didn’t question, and let her begin to massage life back into his frozen fingers. He didn’t feel it at first and then he grimaced as it burned suddenly, his nerves roaring back to life with a vengeance. “Sorry,” Sam said, but she didn’t stop until his whole hand was tingling heartily, and then tucked it between her thighs to keep it warm while she worked on the other one. “I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad.”

“‘s fine,” he said. Gradually he began to warm, and they neared some kind of equilibrium, sharing heat under the blanket. They still had enough wood to keep the fire burning, and with Baird’s broad body wrapped as tightly around Sam as it was, they found they both stayed the warmest with the blanket around Baird’s exposed back, though they were still far from warm enough. Outside, the storm wailed on, and it was well past sunset though the storm had long since rendered it dark as night outside. The time crawled in the freezing room and Baird began to grow tired. 

“Hanging in there?” his voice crackled as it came out. The cold had stripped him of all his energy and he couldn’t even summon a joke.

“Yep.” Sam shifted slightly against him, burrowing a little closer against his chest. Her hair smelled good, he noticed suddenly, and her skin was smooth against his. She sounded tired.

“We can’t sleep,” Baird said. “We might just drift off.”

“I know.” Sam leaned forward to put another piece from the dwindling wood pile on the fire and Baird cringed at the sudden lack of warmth. “Talk then.” She chuckled weakly. “Shouldn’t be hard for you.”

“Hmm…” Baird considered. “There was this one time back when Marcus and Anya were still, you know, trying to pretend they weren’t into each other when everyone knew they were getting busy behind the scenes. Anyway, we went on this mission, him, me, Anya, and Dom. It was just recon, nothing too complex.” He paused to gather his thoughts. They were seeming a little fuzzy, not coming to his tongue as readily as usual. “Uh, we were getting ready to go to bed and Marcus said he needed to take Anya to check out a tower and figure out why the signal wasn’t going through, or some bullshit. As if I wouldn’t be the man for that job.”

Sam shook her head. “What a terrible liar.”

“I know, right? Anyway, they left and they were gone for a good hour. We knew what they were up to so we didn’t bother them, but then it got to two hours so we radioed them and couldn’t get ahold of them. We gave it a little while and tried again, still nothing. So we went out looking. They went to the tower all right, but get this.” Telling the story had woken him up somewhat, and his storytelling had become a bit more animated. “They’d done what they were there to do and I guess it must’ve been good cause they were out cold, and _she_ was spooning _him_! Imagine that, Marcus fucking Fenix - a little spoon.” They were both laughing now, loud and hard. 

“What did you do?” Sam asked.

“We didn’t fucking know _what_ to do!” Baird said through his laughter. “We stood there for probably a whole minute. Then we busted ass out of there; you know how much of a hardass Marcus is and he would have been ten times worse if he knew we’d seen him like that.” He shook his head, “We let ‘em be and bought their bullshit in the morning when Marcus said he lost his radio and they couldn’t find their way back. They must have thought we were the biggest idiots in the world.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “To be honest, it doesn’t surprise me all that much. Anya’s got Marcus wrapped around her little finger.”

“Oh yes,” Baird said. “He’s a changed man, that’s for sure.”

“In a good way?” Sam asked.

“He’s… less self-sacrificing,” Baird said. “Awhile ago he would have given up his life in a second for the cause. Now, I think he’d think twice about it.”

“That could be a good or a bad thing,” Sam said. 

“Yeah,” Baird said. “I s’pose it’s part of the reason I haven’t been much of one for relationships.” He half-expected her to point out one of the many other reasons he hadn’t been in many real relationships, but she didn’t.

“Wow, was that a heartfelt confession from Damon Baird?” Sam asked and Baird chuckled.

“I guess so.”

“I understand where you’re coming from,” she said after a few moments of silence.

“Look at us here, talking like friends,” Baird commented.

“Crazy what facing freezing to death can do to you,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Baird said grimly. “I need to find some more firewood.” He reluctantly pushed off the blanket and stood, stretching his stiff limbs. The air was dry and so cold it seared his lungs and instantly goosebumps popped up on his skin. He broke apart a few more pieces of furniture, stomping some desk drawers into chunks before gathering up the wood and setting it down next to the dwindling fire. He sniffled as he leaned down, mopping his reddened nose on the back of his hand. A little bit of feeling had returned to his toes from his movements and he scrunched them up in his boots, moving them around a little before putting a little more wood on the fire and returning to Sam. 

“Wait, see if my clothes are dry, will you?” she asked.

He picked up her shirt, which had frozen into a crinkled heap and remained entirely ridgid in his hands. “Maybe not.”

“Damn.” She nodded at his nipples, which had gone solid in the cold. “Think you could cut diamond with those?”

“Yeah, probably,” he said. “I’m known for my cutting-edge nipples.”

They were getting slap-happy, he realized as they giggled over the infantile joke, and that probably wasn’t a great thing, considering what it said about their altered mental and physical state and the damage the cold was doing. Sam pulled away from his cold torso as he settled back in behind her. “Get over here; you’re warm,” he said, wrapping his arms around her belly and pulling her closer.

“Fuck off, you’re freezing!” she protested, but he didn’t relent, holding her tight until she gave in and relaxed. “You’re a dick.”

“You keep saying that, but you keep needing things from me,” Baird said.

“Nah,” Sam said. She was tired, he could hear it in her voice.

“Your turn to talk,” Baird said after several minutes of silence. His eyelids had begun to droop and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he drifted off. But Sam didn’t answer. Her breaths were slow and even and her head lolled loosely. Baird craned around her to see her face. Her eyes were closed and her expression relaxed. In his cold- and sleep-muddled state, his filter was entirely gone and he muttered, half to himself, “You’re kinda cute when you shut up for once.”

Her eyes opened just slightly, their warm brown bright above flushed cheeks. “Same to you,” she murmured. Baird’s breath caught slightly, her gaze lighting something warm deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He watched her for a long moment as her eyes drifted shut again, and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to move. His head drooped forward, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder as sleep took him at last.

*****

“Found ‘em!” Baird awoke to the sound of Cole’s voice, the familiar bellow ringing in the small room. He turned his stiff neck, and tried to flex his numb toes, unsure if he had succeeded or not. It was then he remembered Sam was asleep, in his shirt, in his lap, and he stuttered, “Uh, can you give us a minute?”

But it was too late - Marcus, Anya, and Clayton were already coming through the door. Baird didn’t know what was worse - them seeing Sam in his lap, or them seeing them separated but obviously barely dressed. Then he remembered Sam’s clothes on the floor, but it was too late - he had hesitated for too long.

“And here we thought you’d gotten lost!” Anya chided.

“Nah, it’s a love shack, baby,” Cole teased.

“No,” Baird said. “The basement’s flooded and Sam fell in. We had to keep warm somehow.”

“He’s right,” Sam said. 

“Sure,” Clayton said.

Sam stood, holding down the hem of the shirt, which Baird realized now was really very short on her. He followed suit, groaning as his stiff and half-frozen limbs finally moved. “Here.” Cole tossed Sam his winter jacket, and she slipped it on over the shirt, thanking him.

“What about me?” Baird asked.

“Put on your armor, soldier,” Marcus said, and though his face was stern, there was laughter in his eyes as Baird eyed his frost-covered armor.

“You couldn’t spare anything for your most trusted soldier, Sergeant Little Spoon?” Sam said the last part quietly, but Baird watched as Marcus’s eyes widened, an uncharacteristic flush coming to his cheeks. “There’s a jacket in the Raven. C’mon.”

Baird picked up his armor, following as the small group left the building. He jogged Sam with his elbow. “You weren’t supposed to tell him.”

“You can just say, ‘Thank you,’” she said with a cocky smile.

“Thank you?” he said, “_Thank you_? I’m the one that kept you from freezing to death!”

“And I did the same for you. I think we’re even on that count.”

“Listen to them squabble like an old married couple,” Cole said, effectively shutting them up. 

But when Baird sat down in the Raven and Sam sat down a little closer than usual, her thigh just touching his, he didn’t move away. He didn’t know what it was they had now; he had already trusted her, though he wouldn’t have admitted it. And they were good partners in a fight, even if they fought all the time. But the feeling between them was different now. It was something new, and he knew they had unfinished business.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was my first time writing a Gears of War fic, and let me say... this was a ton of fun. I haven't had much inspiration to write lately but this just flowed. Baird and Sam are fun as hell to write. Hope you enjoyed; thanks for reading! Feel free to comment any suggestions and we'll see if I incorporate them in the next part :) cause there's gonna be one.   
You can find me on tumblr under the same username: vanderlindeandco :)


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